


Christmas Correspondence

by terryreviews



Category: Santa Clause (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Crush, Friendship/Love, Love, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:37:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9042821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/pseuds/terryreviews
Summary: It had been 21 years since he'd gotten the first letter. He kept them all in a small box, that soon turned into several more as the years went on, and was always excited to receive each and every one.





	1. The First Letter

**Author's Note:**

> I am honestly not sure what I'm going to do with this story, I have scenes but not a whole story. And I have multiple endings planned. Some heavier than others, some more romantic/sexual than others, but whatever I choose to do, thank you for at least starting this story with me. I've wanted to write a Santa Clause story for years. In fact, I started one MANY years ago, posted it on DA when I was a 16 year old. Never finished it and ultimate deleted the account the story was hosted on. That is not THIS story. I think this one will be better at least. Well, here's hoping. For now, it will stay unrated and the tags will stay fairly basic until i decide how far I want to take it.

 It had been 21 years since he'd gotten the first. It came folded in a red envelope. Sloppily written with red and green makers and plastered with Christmas stickers, the contents were simple and since.

'Dear Santas elfs thank you for my prezants'

There had been the odd note or trinket set aside for the elves every now and again. It wasn't unheard of, but the unique thing was a blurred Polaroid of a beaming little face. Brown curls tossed around and five teeth missing from her grin. The white space at the bottom read 'Adrian age 9'

For a few moments Bernard merely eyed the note and photo with a proud, yet bashful, smile. He always took pride in the work they did. And while the elves didn't get as much attention as Santa, and while he and the rest didn't mind, it _did_ make these moments far more tender.

He held the letter and reflected. It had been quite a long time since the last note had been addressed tot he elves. He took a breath and made up his mind. Leaning back, he pulled open a drawer and took out his stationary kit.

He dipped his quill into gold ink and penned a reply,

'You are very welcome Adrian'

\- Bernard Head Elf

He wrapped the parchment into a tight scroll and got up to find his fancy red ribbon from the box on his book shelf. He took it back to his desk, cut a nice long piece, and tied an elegant bow. Deciding to add a bit of formality, he took out his seal (a large, creative B) and his red melting wax with a touch of gold glitter, and melted a little onto the bow's center before pressing his initial into it.

When it was dried and looked impressive enough, he simply needed to send it.

The mail room sorted through the flux of letters for the holiday and at the moment were archiving the last few stacks.

"Bernard! Hey! How are you?" A tiny elf with particularly large ears and voice, stepped out from his table and approached the head elf with pen arms.

"Hey Zach," Bernard bent to reciprocate the hug before pulled away quickly, "Been busy." He cleared his throat and glanced around before asking, "How've you been?"

"Good, good. Fixed the inter-department tubing so now memos will get where they need. And as you can see, nearly finished sending these letters to the archives so we're pretty much on track and gearing up for the after Christmas party tomorrow."

Every year the elves held a fantastically party to celebrate yet another successful Christmas gone by and let their hair down before resuming work come January second.

They paused, having run out of the biggest portion of small talk either had to offer.

Zach cleared his through and asked, "What brings you down here?"

"Ah, right. I want you to do me a favor." Bernard held up the scroll. "This needs to go to a little girl named Adrian, 9 years old, brown hair."

Zach blinked, "You're _replying_ to a letter?"

"Well, its been a long time since 'we' got a letter. She thanked "Santas elfs", no apostrophe by the way" he added with a smile, "for her gifts. I felt like this would be a special enough reason to just let her know it was appreciated." He reached into his satchel and pulled out Adrian's photo to show Zach whom, by now, was smiling with fondness and practically melted at seeing her face.

"Why not?" He gestured for Bernard to follow him over to a large monitor with a control panel in from with a keyboard, mouse and microphone.

Zach cleared his throat and very clearly stated into the microphone, "Adrian, female, age nine, brown hair."

In a flash there were at least a hundred kids and it took them five minutes to be sure of the exact one before selecting it and getting her address.

"There now," Zach said before holding his hand out for the scroll, "We just send the command to the outgoing tube and it will arrive in the closest post office to be picked up by one of our ATSBs who will make sure it arrives in her mail box."

Ah, ATSBs (Adults That Still Believe) they came in handy with things like this. Helping organize shipments of material, helping sort mail to get to them. Magic sometimes required help and Bernard was grateful for the very few adults that could help make things run just that much smoother every year.

With a press of a button the letter shot up and was on its way to a small town on the East Coast of the United States.


	2. The Second Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically what it says, the second letter. More and more things are opening up to Bernard, and we learn a bit more about Adrian too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you guys don't mind that this chapter is coming in Feb. rather than December lol. Most likely with the way I'm writing, story will continue into July. Then again, I've always been quite slow and unreliable with regular updates -_-; So in any case, if you are a new/returned reader, thank you for gracing my fic.

The second letter came the following year. Jeff Connelly was still Santa at that time and while the man was a jolly old soul who did try his best, he wasn't artistically minded nor particularly social. He was generous, and caring, but reclusive and quiet. He preferred to let the elves handle the majority of the details with the, admittedly decent, argument that they had been doing this for hundreds of years, if not longer. They knew what they were doing, helped foster the mythos surrounding Santa Claus all over the world, and were the beings responsible for the way a lot of places celebrated Christmas in the first place. Poor Jeff just simply felt out of his depth.

The envelope, a sturdier, padded yellow one, still plastered with Christmas stickers, but the squiggly markers addressed the packet to “Bernard the elf” caught him off guard. Jeff, Santa, handed it to him after he'd hopped down from the sleigh that early morning, pulling it from his coat's inner pocket. He waited until he was dressed in more comfortable pajamas, before settling with a cup of cocoa in Bernard's office to toast a job well done, and asking,

“How does she know your name?” Of course, Jeff was not the suspicious type. Nor particularly nosy. He asked merely for curiosity's sake.

“Because I told her.” Bernard answered, putting the packet into his top desk drawer to look at the following day.

After a night's sleep, the shop was on hiatus. They were to have their big party celebrating the successful year, and to take a break for a good solid two months before getting a head start on the new year. During this time Bernard was not entirely sure what to do. Around this time most of the elves, accept for those directly involved with Santa's care, were home with their families. Bernard's parents had moved away a long time ago, living amongst humans for however long they wanted. The last he'd seen them was around twenty years ago and only for a weekend. He had no one to go home to. Which wasn't a problem. He wasn't lying to himself or anyone else when he said that he was not lonely. He was committed and enjoyed his work. His family were all the elves that he saw day in and day out.

Without them around however, aside from a handful like Judy, Bernard was bored. It was only around lunchtime that he remembered the envelope tucked away in his desk and pulled it out.

Taking his letter opener up, he carefully sliced along the top and peered inside. A packet tied with snowflake ribbon, several Polaroids and what looked like a cookie were all set inside. He tipped the package over and let it topple across his desk.

Better spelling and neater handwriting this time is what caught his eye before he began reading after untying the snowflake ribbon.

 _Dear Mr. Head Elf Bernard_ (he smiled at that)

_Thats a really cool name. I like it a lot. How old are you? I had a birthday in October and I'm ten now. I took some pictures of the party and of the new dog I got. His name is Pop and mommy and daddy adopted him. He is seven years old and likes to play with tennis balls. I don't like throwing them because he makes them all slimy but hes funny when he runs around with them so I throw them. School is good. I like the reading classes and the writing classes. I am not great at spelling or writing yet but I want to get better. Mommy wants me to play piano. My gramma has a piano and now I can go over and play it. Daddy found my teacher Mrs.Fringe. She smells like cats and smoke. I'm not happy about the lessons but gramma is so I'll do it. Do you play any instriments? For Christmas I made a ginger bred ornament in class. I want you to have it. Thank you to you and all the elves for my presents._

_Much Love,_

_Adrian, Age Ten_

Bernard held the letter for a moment longer and placed it down on the desk before taking up at least five pictures. One was a slightly older Adrian with her teeth grown back, sititng in front of a black case with a singular large candle in the top. The second was of her dog Pop. A small dog of mixed breed. His mussel was gray, but the elf recognized the look of joy and contentment as Pop rested on the beaming Adrian's lap as she smiled for the photo. The third picture was of her bedroom. A small green room with posters of what looked like The Beatles, Kiss, cats, wizards, on the walls, and several shelves filled with books and toys. The picture was taken from an unflattering angle so some of it was cut off and he couldn't see much aside from directly across from the door. The forth picture was of Adrian under a plastic tree (Bernard could tell a real from a fake tree at a glance) in a faded teddy bear night gown, holding up a stuffed cat. Bernard recognized the cat, it was one of the many stuffed animals they had made that year. Black fur with a white patch on the chest, gleaming eyes of green, long bendy tail, even with padded pink paws. The last picture was of Adrian, just standing there, smiling. Her shirt was a torn David Bowie shirt, black, and much too long for her body as it went down to her knees, and the sleeves drooped low on her tiny arms, and had large sunglasses with purple tinted lenses, holding a small acoustic guitar. Her hair was a tangled mess, a bit longer than the last photo to be sure.

The final item, the cookie, was lacquered to be quite hard and had a ribbon going through the top of it. A plain, straightforward, gingerbread man. With all the fine craftsmanship, with all the toys they've seen come and go, perfected, fixed, all the jewelry, all the clothing, a back to basics gingerbread man, made from the heart of a child was one of the finest pieces Bernard had ever received. A rare, and special gift.

Bernard held the cookie letting it twirl on its string, the light from his desk sparkling off the shinning service, as the joy washed over him. A child gave him a personal gift, wrote a letter to him. After last year's fluke, he didn't expect to hear from her again. Especially since between the ages of ten and thirteen is when kids typically stopped believing.

With a breath Bernard picked a bottle with sparkling blue ink and his quill, found a piece of parchment with glitter woven into its fabric, and set about writing a reply.

_Dear Adrian,_

_You have certainly grown and your teeth have come back, make sure to take care of them. Thank you for complimenting my name, I've had it for a long time. Your's is a pretty cool name as well._ (He skirted around answering how old he was for a moment before deciding, what could it hurt) _I'm four thousand years old. One of the oldest Elves in Santa's workshop. Part of why I am the head Elf to be honest. It looked like you had an amazing birthday. Pop is a very lucky dog to have someone who loves him so much. Make sure to take care of him. He's a dog, not a toy, and he loves and trusts you very much_ (He couldn't resist adding this portion after seeing so many poor animals being left on the street after Christmas because the children were too young to understand what a responsibility it was, and the fact that the parents were just plain cruel. Maybe if Adrian heard it from an Elf, she wouldn't do anything reckless and mean spirited to her dog. Not that he thought she would but still, never hurt to play cautious) _. I saw you are a fan of music. Kiss and David Bowie, do you remember when you first heard them? I personally liked The Beatles poster you had in your room. I'm not much one for rock music, in general, but they were good. I don't play any instruments myself. I used to play the flute a long time ago, but I've since forgotten how to play anything other than Pop Goes the Weasel. I know that you don't want to take piano lessons, but trust me, when you get older, you'll appreciate having a skill not many people have and that can be very fun. Do you play guitar? I ask because you seemed to be posing like a rock star in the last photo._

_Thank you again Adrian for your thoughtful gifts, I'll treasure and take care of them and I'll make sure to let the Elves know that you thought of them as well._

_Be good, be safe, be well,_

_Bernard Head Elf_

“What does it hurt honestly?” Bernard mumbled to himself as he re-read his letter, noting that he had out rightly answered and asked several questions as if he were speaking to a new friend. He might not be the keeper of the hand book, but he knew at least several of the rules and none of them prevented him from sending another letter. To be safe however he added a small PS.

_Ps. Adrian, secrecy is very important to Santa, the North Pole, and all the Elves. So I ask you to please keep this secret between us. Don't show any letters I send back to you. Trust me on this one._

 

 

 

 


	3. Dinosaur Stickers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third letter came unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a long while. I got a message from someone asking me to continue this fic. While I had never intended to abandon this story, the gentle plea of the person was both flattering and humbling and I said "yeah that's a long enough hiatus". I hope they like.

The third letter came two weeks into the hiatus. Bernard was sitting in his armchair by the fireplace in his living room. Cup of cocoa cooling on the side table. With little to occupy his time since the workshop wouldn't be open again for another month and a half, he chose to read. For his birthday in November, Judy had gotten him a collection of fairy tales. What made this one so special is that, for each tale it had, it gave several versions and was annotated by several leading folklorists about the history of stories, the alterations, and regions in which they came from. And while it could get a little _dark_ , he found it fascinating the way humans viewed the Fae in some of them. Technically speaking, he was one himself and in the old... _old_ days, he may have made mischief every now and again. But those days were long since past and it was fun to simply read stories that dealt with talking bears, or women spinning stray into gold. Even if blood wasn't his favorite imagery, it offered a nice change of pace from the glittering, sugary, light of the North Pole.

In early afternoon, as he was in the middle of a gruesome telling of Goldilocks, the mail slot in his door opened and shut with a precise metal clap. Putting his book to the side, Bernard stood, stretched, and took a long sip of his cocoa before heading to the door.

On the mat were three letters. He scooped them up and flipped through each. Two of them were from some of his friends who were spending their vacation time traveling to miscellaneous parts of the world. The third, however, gave him pause. It came with dinosaur stickers and in purple ink on the front "To Mr.Bernard Head Elf, North Pole." How the letter had reached him without Santa as an intermediary was a puzzle.

"Probably an ATSB." He mumbled before taking it back to his chair.

Carefully, he tore open one of the ends and pulled out a simple sheet of white lined paper. Unfolding it, he began to read.

_Dear Mr. Bernard_

_Holy cow your so old! Older than my grandma! Do you have a big long beard and a bunch of wrinkles?_

He outright laughed out loud at the notion and had to put the letter to the side for a few minutes while he laughed himself out.

_Don't worry about Pop, I'm taking good care of him. He's my buddy. i take him for walks and feed him breakfast, and at night he sleeps in my bed. In the morning though he jumps on me and sits on my head. I don't like it and I have to shove him off me. You should get a dog! Do they have dogs at the North Pole?_

_I first heard Kiss and David Bowie on my daddy's record player. Mommy likes the Beatles. I like them all. There are a lot of other bands that play on the radio too that are pretty cool. I'll try to take you a mixed tape, I only just got a radio with a tape player in it._

_I don't play the guitar, it belonged to my cousin. Mommy and Daddy want me to learn to play it. It hurts though and I'm already learning piano! I don't even like the piano! Do you think you'll ever learn to play the flue again?_

_What else do you do as head elf? Do you make any toys?_

_I hope you are doing okay. I ran out of Christmas stickers, but I hope you like the dinosawrs._

_Much Love,_

_Adrian_

_Ps. I'm good at keeping secrets!_

He reflected for a moment. Her spelling, in such a short time, was much better. One a few mistakes. Her handwriting was little crooked and cramped, but he had little difficulty reading it. What got him, aside from making him breathless with laughter, was the overly personal "much love" at the end of her letters. He got the distinct impression she was the type of child that hugged strangers. It also gave him a few things to reflect on. Her last letters, while he gave somewhat personal details, were still predominately centered on _her_ and the North Pole. He was used to being detached in the name of professionalism. Of course he had friends, of course he was friendly, but he was still the boss and a lot of the time he had to maintain a professional distance that made him fairly isolated during the regular working season. Not that he was particularly sociable as it was. A drink or two after hours, a party, breaks, he had a few friends, and that was it. It felt _strange_ to be asked questions about himself when he thought her curiosity would wane, when the next letter wouldn't even arrive until next year (if it did at all). 

Should he reply? After all, the first two times he did were simple, straightforward, and not secret. This felt like it was growing. To what extent, he wasn't sure.


	4. I Love Dinosaur Stickers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Bernard's response to Adrian's letter and this is a SHORT chapter.

Bernard re-read the letter at least twice more, still chortling over the beard comment before he went to his desk and grabbed some stationary with golden boarders and a pen rather than a quill this time and went back to his armchair with his lap desk and in simple black ink began to write.

_Dear Adrian,_

_No, I don't have a beard. In fact, Elves are not capable of growing facial hair. We tend to look very young, from young child to teenager being the typical range._

_I'm glad that you have a friend in Pop, he sounds like a very nice buddy. We do have dogs in the North Pole. We also have cats, bunnies, birds, and reptiles. We get them from shelters, from people who cannot take care of them anymore, off of the street, and give them a home here. We have a pet center where they get taken care of.  During Christmas, if there are young animals, puppies, kittens, and so forth, sometimes Santa finds a family that is safe, responsible, and loving enough to give them a home. Sometimes animals are given to the elderly, the sick, and lonesome so to help keep them company and give mutual trust and love to them. Usually older animals are given to these people because they understand them better, they can share mutual empathy with one another, and sometimes families, especially with young children, don't always appreciate older animals like you do with Pop. Other times, Elves will adopt animals themselves. My friend Ralph has 3 dogs, 2 cats, and a parrot._

_I would appreciate anything you would send to me Adrian, but please know that it isn't necessary and I wouldn't want you to go out of your way just to make me something. Thank you for the thought._

_I think you could enjoy learning both instruments. Tell you what, I will learn to play the flute again if you learn to play both the guitar and piano. Deal?_ (now where did he put it again?)

(Bernard pondered for a moment, what could he distill his job into. His job was a simple description yet involved more than most Elves even knew)

_As Head Elf, I over see everything in Santa's workshop. I help solve problems, I help manage breaks and work time, and I assist Santa directly with whatever he would need._

_I used to make toys. When I was younger I made simple dolls out of wood and puppets with strings. When I got older, I started to learn to sew, make jewelry, and pocket watches and mostly started making gifts for very special people who were remaked as such by Santa himself, even if they didn't believe in Santa. The last department I worked in before I was promoted to Head Elf was the Adults That Still Believe. There I mostly made gifts for adults that still believe in us and Santa that are good people deserving of a little thank you at the end of the year._

_When I got promoted to Head Elf, I wasn't required to make toys any more Sometimes I still make some for close friends._

_I love the dinosaur stickers._

_Warm Wishes,_

_Bernard_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a really quick chapter. Very small.

The next letter came in a small padded envelope with more dinosaur stickers on it.

_Dear Bernard,_

_Can I have a picture of you? You know what I look like and I've never seen an elf before! Please! I won't show anyone. I'm good at secrets!_

_I'm glad that all the animals are taken care of. You should get one next Christmas!_

_Hey! That's not fair, why do I have to learn two instruments and you only have to learn one! You should pick another instrument too!_

_You do a lot of hard work, no wonder Santa trusts you to be head elf! I wish I was able to build things._

_I made you a mix tape. Sorry there are some commercials on it, I couldn't hit the stop button quick enough or mommy called me._

_Sorry this letter is short, I have homework and I spent a lot of time at piano lessons but I hope you're good!_

_Much love,_

_Adrian_

 


	6. Black and White

It was an older model, printed in black and white and its body was made primarily of wood. He had to dig it out of a closet. While the departments knew about newer technology, Bernard didn't really have to anymore since he wasn't making the toys or gadgets. Not to mention, when your face never changes, there is little point to taking a picture. After some painful shifting he found the tripod that when with the thing and dragged it out, knocking over coats and a few carefully stacked boxes.

 

“I'll get them later.” He dusted himself off, which did little to actually remove the dust from his shoulders or hair, and went to grab a step stool so he could search the shelf in the closet for the small box of film that he should still have.

 

Thirty minutes later, sweating and sore from falling backwards onto his rear, he had found a dogeared box of film. Hopefully it would still be alright to use. Now, all he had to do was figure out how to use this thing again.

 

The sharp rap of a knock came to his door just as he was screwing the camera into the tripod.

 

“Come in,” he said without looking up from his task.

 

“Hey Bernard, ooo, that's a late model. Fifties or so.” Mark said as he dropped to his knees to edge closer to the device for a better look. Mark, fairly tall, coming just under Bernard's chin. He worked with stocking stuffers and wrapping.

 

“Looks like it hasn't been used...ever. Little dusty, but all the parts look pretty good. You're actually going to try and use this though? The film probably has gone sideways.”

 

“This is the only one I have. So, hopefully it'll work.”

 

“Does it have a timer?”

 

“I'm...not sure.”

 

“Do you want me to help?”

 

“You don't have to. I don't want you to go out of your way.”

 

“It's no trouble.” Mark shrugged and he took over setting up the camera, adjusting it, checking the film. It took five minutes before he was satisfied.

 

“Alright, go strike a pose,” he gestured with his chin to indicate that Bernard should stand in front of the camera. There were taking this in front of his fireplace which Bernard hoped would make for an effective backdrop to an otherwise non-colorful picture.

 

“Ah, right.” He gave himself a futile dusting over (he wouldn't want to make Mark wait longer than necessary for him to change or wash his hair) and went to stand in front of the camera.

 

Mark looked through the eye hole and made a half snort, “could you try to make yourself look like you want to be here. You're all wide eyes and tight lipped.”

 

“Hey, give me a break, I haven't take a picture in...a long time.”

 

“Alright,” Mark came up from around the camera, “picture one of your happiest memories. One of the best you've ever had. And really put yourself into it and let everything wash over you.”

 

Bernard, while not unimaginative, had a hard time focusing on one potent memory and immersing himself in it. His whole life, for so long, was the same old thing year after year. One Christmas bleeding into another. Of course, there were differences between them. Of course, there were good times and bad. But at his age, it was hard to pick a memory that was strong.

 

After a moment, it came. The first time he learned to ice skate. Back then, it was blades tied to your shoes and you did your best. He was out on this massive lake and dawn was just creeping up over the trees. There were no people aside from him and his parents and they took each hand, and led him around the naturally formed rink.

 

The flash went off and he jumped out of his skin.

 

“There you go. Don't touch it for a bit and it'll come out well. I hope. Films' pretty old,” Mark placed the Polaroid face down and turned his attention back to Bernard. “Was wondering if you want to come with me and some of the guys to go bowling? Been cooped up in your house for most of the break, figured you'd like to shake things up.”

 

Mark was always a considerate guy. Always very friendly, going around and treating everyone like they were friends. That included Bernard, his boss. It was very sweet of him.

 

“Thank you for the inviting me,” Bernard said, “I mean, I probably should take a look at some of the upcoming figures for the new year,” he thought about digging out one of the left over boomboxes from last Christmas and using it to play the tape Adrian gave him and pen a reply. However, it had been quite a while since he'd just paled around with someone.

 

“Ah, that can wait. You work too hard Bernard. There isn't much time left in the break as it is. Come on, buy you a cup of cocoa.” Mark nudged his shoulder.

 

Bernard gave a little smile, paid a glance to the upside down photo, before relenting, “alright, I'll play a game or two.”

 

“Great!” Mark jumped up and headed to the door to wait as Bernard grabbed his shoes, “what's the picture for anyway?”

 

“Oh, a friend.”

 

 

 


End file.
